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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813487">You Dont Hibernate in Autumn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manrann/pseuds/Manrann'>Manrann</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Burrito!Veela, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:26:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manrann/pseuds/Manrann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you mix a warmth loving Fleur Delacour with a cold morning, and a comfy blanket? Shenanigans of course. And an exasperated Harry, but that was always a given..<br/>Written for the Autumn one-shot collection of the H/F Discord</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Flowers of Autumn</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Dont Hibernate in Autumn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was written for the first Autumn one-shot collection, put together on the H/F discord server over the past few weeks. Link: https://discord.gg/Np2zjAH </p>
<p> A massive thank you to all the amazing beta readers on H/F discord who took the time to look over the stories, as well as everyone who helped brainstorm or add to these scenes.<br/>This is just fluff. Nothing more. You’re welcome</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the predawn darkness, a pair of green eyes flickered open, only one though on the mind of the person to which they belonged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Why the fuck is it so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking blearily, Harry slowly raised his head, his form shivering, clad only in boxers. The first thing he noticed was the distinct </span>
  <em>
    <span>lack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the warm veela down quilt he clearly remembered draping over the bodies of his wife and himself, as they snuggled in for the night.</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>Turning his head, he spotted where the blankets had gone.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>A soft sigh escaped his lips, “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, lay his wife, Fleur Potter, having somehow managed to wrap herself up in the warm blanket in a manner reminiscent of a giant burrito.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the cold, the raven haired man couldn't help the smile that wormed its way onto his face at the sight of his wife slumbering peacefully, the earliest rays of a sun that had just begun to peek over the horizon alighting on her face, playing off her silvery blond tresses, dancing over her supple, smooth skin, accentuating her full lips as she slept, mouth open in cute little snores.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It gave the sight a semblance of a heavenly, angelic beauty. He was almost loath to disturb the vision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yet Harry was cold, and he needed the warmth of that blanket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking in a good lungful of the cold morning air, he steeled himself for his next move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand reached out, gripping the closest end of the blanket, fingers sinking into the softness of that veela down stuffing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only his remarkably sharp reactions, born from years of life threatening event after life threatening event, and honed by nearly two decades of practice and training, enabled him to perform the surprisingly acrobatic dodge in his sleepiness, as a trio of bright blue orbs of flame shot out from under the blanket he had managed to pull up, the balls splashing harmlessly against the patterned wallpaper of the (thankfully) fireproof wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His wife’s slender hand poked out from the gap, palm still smoking, dainty, slim fingers twitching lightly as he landed softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emerald eyes wide, Harry watched as Fleur’s hand retreated under the covers, grabbing the open end and pulling it in after itself as she rolled over to face away from him….. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still hogging the entirety of the covers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pouted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another deep breath. In. Out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cold air invigorated him, shoving away the last feelers of his drowsiness as he stared at the rolled up veela.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried again, his hand sharply tugging on the surface of the cover closest to him, pulling it out from under Fleur’s body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His acrobatic sequence was </span>
  <em>
    <span>distinctly</span>
  </em>
  <span> longer this time, his body contorting sharply in rapid succession, as a veritable </span>
  <em>
    <span>barrage</span>
  </em>
  <span> of fiery projectiles shot out from under the covers, dissipating once more against the wall behind him, all of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely</span>
  </em>
  <span> missing the only frame hanging on it, the item framed within safe from the heat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thank the gods for the wonderous miracles that were fireproofing charms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry turned back to his wife. Or rather, the large, curled up, blanket covered lump that his wife had apparently become. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at the shape for a few moments, before sighing expressively, somewhere between fondness and exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fleur never did like the cold, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a bit too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He slipped off the bed, opening up the closet to grab clothing more substantial than his current pair of boxers. As he slipped the shirt over his head and pulled on the pants, his eyes examined the lump, his mind sifting through ideas as he planned his next move.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Walking up to the bed, he crawled on, softly, soundlessly. His ‘training’ as a full time Veela mate was definitely coming in handy here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand reached out, coming to a halt mere centimeters from the surface of the lump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breathing in, he initialised stage one of his plan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He poked the lump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Poke. poke.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A mumble emanated from deep within the blanket covered figure, barely coherent and certainly inaudible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He poked it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A slightly more legible response returned this time. Fleur’s voice, heavy with sleep and laced with irritation, reached his ears as he leaned in close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed. “No. Fleur, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon amour, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you need to get up. It's morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it was. The soft light of the morning sun, rising over the trees at the edge of their estate, was a testament to that, lighting up the room in soft yellows and oranges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A more legible response, “Go </span>
  <em>
    <span>Away!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>hibernating</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sighed, again. She would be the death of him, truly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a strength not many would have expected from his lean, toned form, his hand found purchase once more on the surface of the blanket closest to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yanked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d pulled hard enough that the end of the lump his hand gripped gave way, revealing the naked upper half of his sleepy wife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gorgeous half-Veela hissed at the cold, yanking the covers back over her svelte form, wrapping herself up to the chin, covering her figure once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry would shamelessly admit that he was more than a little upset at that. His wife’s figure was a sight to behold….. A sight that only </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> got to behold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his brain returned from its happy place, where it had flitted off to at the sight of his naked wife, he met the glare she had levelled at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veela don’t Hibernate”, he informed her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed, cerulean blues glinting dangerously, “And you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> an expert on Veela.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't even bother with a verbal response, his thumb jerking over his shoulder at the wall that her sleepy fireballs had impacted. On the wallpaper, a royal blue patterned with golden Fleur de lis, proudly hanging in its ornate mahogany frame, sat the first edition cover of his work, </span>
  <b>On The Affectionate Nature of Veela, A study by Harry Potter.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that eloquent response, Fleur jerks the covers back over her head, curling up once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s eye twitched, his hands running through his messy raven hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time for Plan B.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning in close to the cover, he whispered softly, “Well, if you’re ‘Hibernating’, You’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day at the very least, hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm”, was the muffled response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then, looks like you’re not going to be able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>indulge</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the lavish breakfast I was planning to cook up today. Shame.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breakfast?”, Fleur’s voice emerged as a hopeful mumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded sagely, not that she could see it, “Yep. Croissants, coffee, fresh fruit and crepes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just the way you like them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All fluffy and soft?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm. and that’s not all by any stretch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paix u raisins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Audible, needy pants had begun to emanate from the lump at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And oeufs cocotte.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A soft, sensual moan of longing emerged from the blanket covered form, the involuntary sensuality it was laden with had Harry shifting to accomodate for the sudden increased tightness in his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One never truly got used to the casual sexiness that a Veela could emit. Harry could attest to that readily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The covers pulled back, just a tiny bit. Fleur’s face peeked out the gap, eyes blinking in the morning light, luscious eyelashes caressing her cheeks as her eyelids flickered up and down, silvery blond hairs falling messily around her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so fucking adorable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And his daughter was even more so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a wonder he could ever be stern with either of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced around, cerulean eyes taking in her husband, the morning sun peeking through the window, before her slender, perfect fingers once more secured their grip on the open edge, tugging it back over her head as she retreated once more into the soft warmth of Veela down blanket, with a soft whisper of, “No. Still too cold.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry's eye twitched once more, his fingers spasmed as he struggled to keep a grip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breathed in, chest expanding as he filled his lungs with air, before explosively exhaling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning close again, his emerald eyes flickered shut, as he spoke, “Okay, how about a hot bath </span>
  <em>
    <span>in addition?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And a complementary massage by yours truly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in the bathroom</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fleur’s covered form stilled for a moment, obviously contemplating the offer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breath hitched in his throat. ‘Please. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The part of the lump near her head wiggled. “No. Hibernating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s left hand gripped the wrist of his right, physically restraining himself from yanking off the covers and dousing the french woman in a bucketful of cold water.  His grip on his wand tightened (wait, when had he picked up his wand?), ready to conjure an icy cascade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fleur. It’s Halloween, and you’re sleeping in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blanket hit him square in the chest, travelling </span>
  <em>
    <span>way too fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bowling him off the bed and onto the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Groaning, he rubbed his chest, his eyes flicking up to the bed, taking in the shapely, sensual form of his wife in all her naked glory as her vivid cerulean irises darted hither thither, snapping from the calendar gracing their wall, to the large clock hanging just above it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>8:30.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her silvery blond tresses cracked through the air as her head whipped around to Harry’s prone form, glaring with the force of a thousand suns, or just one irate veela. Her voice cracked like a whip, laced with anger and irritation, as she exclaimed, “‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arry</span>
  </em>
  <span>! How could you let me oversleep on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Halloween</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all days?! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> how important this day is for me and Fae!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s smart frames were displaced up his head as the flats of his palms pressed into his eyes, his voice a low murmur, rife with frustration and exasperation, “She’s your wife Potter, you cannot curse her. She’s your wife Potter, you cannot curse her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s your wife Potter, …...</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fleur blinked at the sight, before shaking her head sharply, leaping gracefully off the bed, arm stretching out towards the handle of their bedroom door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gotta wake Fae up. Wonder what she’s going to dress up as? Dont think she’s said anything yet”, she mused as she walked, “Maybe we could match?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fleur”, Harry’s voice spoke up from behind her, stopping her as he got to his feet, folding up the blanket as he did so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”, She snapped, turning back to him, hands on her hips, one delicate, elegant foot tapping irately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His green eyes glanced up and down, taking in her form, a view he would never tire of, as he spoke, “Maybe put some clothes on first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stiffened, her eyes flickering down as her beautiful face bloomed in a vivid red. Squeaking, she hurried towards their closet as he snickered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Outfitted in a pair of loose sweatpants and one of Harry’s shirts (aka, her usual morning attire), Fleur stepped out of their room, turning down the hallway towards her daughter’s room, two doors down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abruptly, she paused, “Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just behind her, he blinked, one eyebrow arching inquisitively, “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about breakfast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breakfast? What about it? I’m pretty sure i just got a new box of cereal, and we have plenty of milk- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gasping indignantly, Fleur whirled on him, eyes wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what about what you said? Croissants and crepes and Paix un raisins and…..”, She trailed off as her eyes finally registered the mischievous smirk on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stamped one foot as she huffed, crossing her arms, “You’re messing with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips quirked upwards, “Maaaaaybe….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her pout was adorable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shook his head fondly, his raven locks bouncing as he smiled, stepping forward as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, “I’ll get started on it as soon as we get Fae up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fleur giggled, her arms wrapping around him for a quick squeeze before she slipped out of his grasp, pecking the tip of his nose before darting away, stopping before the door to their daughter’s room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grinning, Harry knocked on the door and waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a couple minutes passed, Fleur stepped closer, knocking harder on the wood, her voice raised as she called out, “Fae?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sharing a glance with Harry, she pushed the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warm light from the hallways spilled around their forms, into the dark room. The drawn blinds stoically held out the morning light, leaving the hall lights as the only source of illumination.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was a smaller one, home to a desk, covered with books, papers, and art supplies, a closet, which lay half open, two shelves, filled with books, toys, and framed photos of Fleur, Harry, and a young, smiling, emerald eyed, silvery blond young girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opposite the doorway lay a single bed, the light creeping halfway up its length, illuminating a familiar looking lump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fae?”, Fleur called out softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away!”, A child’s voice replied from within the lump, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hibernating.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fleur blinked. And then blinked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The slap of flesh meeting flesh drew her attention to her husband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who let out an irate groan, head held in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Nothing much to say here. </p>
<p>Do make sure to check out the rest of the wonderful stories in the collection on FFN and Ao3, it has some truly amazing works by much better authors than myself.<br/>Feel free to hop on the discord as well! We’d love to have you. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Till next time.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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